Blue Chow Christmas: The Hart Family (Have A Hart Book 4)

by Rachelle Ayala

  “Let’s stop bickering about Brian,” Mother interjected. “Cait’s tired. I’ll spend the night here, but the rest of you can go. Dad and I will bring her home.”

  “Mom, you don’t have to stay,” Cait said. “I’ll have the nurse call you guys when they discharge me.”

  “Kimberly, let’s go. Cait needs to rest. She has a concussion.” Father bent over and kissed Cait on the forehead. “You take care. We’ll be back in the morning.”

  “I’m glad you’re okay,” Melisa said, giving Cait’s hand a squeeze.

  One by one, Cait’s siblings and their significant others bade farewell to her. They told her they loved her, hugged her, kissed her, and promised to do anything they could to help her.

  Their outpouring of love touched Cait. “It’s only a little concussion. I’ll be back on my feet in no time. Thanks for coming. I feel bad you haven’t eaten dinner.”

  Cait’s smile dropped as soon as the last visitor left her room. She slipped a finger into the envelope from the flowers and pulled out the note. It was written in Brian’s hand.

  Dear Cait, I want you to feel loved. I might not know how to do it, but I promise I’ll try. Brian

  Chapter Nineteen

  Brian paused at the door of Cait’s hospital room. It was early in the morning, and he’d spent the night alone at the cabin after speaking to the sheriff. They’d asked him worrisome questions about Cait’s mental status and whether she had any enemies. He had no clue about any of it, and at the end, the sheriff had told him that he would be contacting him for more information.

  “Go ahead,” the nurse said, opening the door. “She’s waiting for you.”

  “How’s she doing?” He could barely get his voice to work.

  “She’ll be stiff, but she’s ready to go home. It’s a miracle she survived.”

  He breathed out in relief, even though his heart was on the edge with jitters and nerves. He’d been given another chance to show Cait what a wonderful wife she was. He hadn’t had time to buy her another bouquet of flowers, but when he stepped into the room, his breath caught in his throat.

  The flowers he’d bought for Cait were on her tray table.

  “Hey,” his voice was tight in his throat.

  “Hey.” Her smile warmed him as she peered at him, her head propped up high by the neck brace.

  “I would have come sooner, but I didn’t want to disturb you, so I went up to the cabin.”

  His excuse was lame, but when he’d come to see her last night, she already had a crowd in her room. He also heard Grady ranting—all of it true, about how he, Brian, didn’t fit into the Hart family.

  The police had already made Brian feel as if the accident were his fault. Witnesses claimed she was going too fast and didn’t slow down at the curve. Word had gotten around the small town that he had made wild claims about Senator Thornton’s son, and speculation was rampant that Cait was so despondent that she had tried to take her own life.

  Brian swallowed a lump in his throat and slid into a chair next to her bed. He’d never thought of his wife as being frail and needing someone to look after her, but seeing her so pale, propped up with a neck brace, and averting her eyes from his gaze, gripped his insides with a fluttery ache.

  For better or worse, she was his wife, and he wanted her to be happy and have all the things she deserved—a normal husband who loved her, possibly children for her to dote on, and a home where she’d feel safe and secure. All he could offer her was a lifetime of worry as a firefighter’s wife, and now, a complication with having to work around Glen, his son.

  “I had a good night’s sleep,” Cait said. Her voice was so small, he could barely hear her. “Thanks for the flowers.”

  “Do you like them?” Brian leaned toward her. “I didn’t know what to get, but these were pretty.”

  “I love them. They make me happy.”

  Brian cleared his throat and felt his face go hot. He’d never been bashful around Cait before, but with her staring at him like he was one of the good guys, it was hard for him to breathe.

  “That’s what I want. For you to be happy.”

  She sniffed the flowers and averted her gaze—a sign he’d been told meant she was either uncomfortable with him or hiding something. “Thanks, Brian. It means a lot to me that you care.”

  The words were at the edge of his lips, that he more than cared for her, that if he knew what love was, it would certainly apply to her, but he couldn’t choke them out.

  They sounded like a lie. I love you. Those three words were some of the most misused words in the English language. Greeting card words. Words used to cover a multitude of sins. Words with no precise definition.

  He studied the neck brace and the bruising on his wife’s forehead. Clearing his throat, he asked, “What really happened? How did the car run off the road?”

  Cait shook her head and kept her nose in the bouquet, closing her eyes. “I don’t remember. I was told I was going too fast. When I fell asleep, I dreamed I was in a runaway train with no brakes. I woke up drenched in cold sweat.”

  “I shouldn’t have let you drive by yourself. It was my fault.”

  “No, we agreed for me to stay behind. You needed to delete your social media accounts and contact a lawyer.” She patted his hand. “Have you deleted your Twitter?”

  “No, I haven’t had time,” he said. “I’m taking you home first. Are you feeling okay?”

  “As well as possible. I don’t want to go home, though.”

  “You don’t?” Brian sat up straighter. “Then where would you go?”

  Before Cait had a chance to answer, a horde of Harts herded into the small hospital room.

  “We’re back.”

  “Oh, and Brian’s here. Yay.”

  “How are you feeling this morning?”

  “Ready to go home?” Cait’s mother charged to her side. “I’ll take good care of you. Fuss over you and you’ll be as good as new.”

  “I got you flowers,” Grady said. “Nothing but the best for my big sister.”

  “We’ll bring you a casserole from the station for a change,” Connor said, giving Brian a wink, since Brian did most of the cooking at the firehouse. “Give you a rest from cooking.”

  “When we get home, we can look over wedding invitations and stationery,” Jenna said. “I love your idea for the hearts, flowers, and arrows motif.”

  “And you can still be in charge of my New Year’s Eve wedding,” Melisa said. “In fact, I’ll follow all your suggestions.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” Jenna snorted. “You ready for the open bar at the stroke of midnight?”

  “Of course, I trust Cait to put on the most memorable shindig. Don’t you?” Melisa hooked an arm around Cait’s shoulder. “It’ll be fun, and I want Cait to feel useful.”

  “We can all hang out and play cards,” Dale, their youngest brother, said. “I know a bunch of good games. hand and foot, thirteen, hearts, and spades.”

  “Stop! All of you.” Cait shouted, putting her hands in a timeout position. “I have a concussion and all of you are giving me a headache.”

  “Oh, that’s right, she has to rest,” Mother said. “In a darkened room with no stimulation. Is it true I have to wake you up every two to three hours?”

  “I don’t need that anymore,” Cait said. “They monitored me last night and took a CAT scan. I’m all clear to go home, except I don’t want to go home.”

  She stared from one family member to the next.

  “Where are you going if not home?” Her father asked, raising his eyebrows.

  “I want to stay with Brian at the cabin with the two dogs I found.”

  “But, Brian has work the next few days. He can’t take care of you,” Mother said.

  “I can take vacation,” Brian said. “If it’s okay with you, Connor.”

  “Of course it is,” Connor said. “Are you sure Cait will have everything she needs at the cabin?”

  “There’s no inter
net,” Grady said. “No television, no phone, Cait will be bored.”

  “Hello. I’m recovering from a concussion.” Cait waved her hand. “I’m not supposed to be on the computer or watching TV. The cabin will be quiet, and I can take long walks and get plenty of sleep.”

  “You sure you’ll be okay?” Her mother rubbed her shoulder.

  “You won’t even have a phone to call for help,” Cait’s father said.

  “Mom, Dad. Brian’s going to be with me, and I’ll be just fine.”

  Chapter Twenty

  ~ Glen Thornton ~

  Keeping pressure on the lock with the larger paperclip, I rake the hooked one under the pins. In no time, I’m inside the superintendent’s office.

  I open an incognito browser window on the secretary’s laptop and check my messages in the Realm.

  Jackpot! There’s a message from Wonderman leaving clues to a gingerbread cottage in the woods—a trail of breadcrumbs I recognize as symbols in our guild.

  My character is a thief, so I easily open the lockbox for the first clue. It’s a set of tangrams, shapes with holes that fit into a pattern. I rearrange the shapes, and note the symbol inside each of the colored holes.

  It points me to the next location in the game: the library. Using the colored symbols, I rearrange the virtual bookshelf. There’s a number on the spine of each book.

  I write the numbers down on a piece of paper, and then proceed to the bank vault. A ticker tape tells me where to put the plus sign and the negative sign, as well as the decimal points.

  I end up with two numbers. One positive, and one negative with six significant after the decimal. I stare at it, and turn it around in my mind. It looks like a latitude and a longitude, something we learned about in geography class.

  I plug the numbers into the Realm World and it lands in the middle of the ocean. There’s no cottage either of gingerbread or woods in the vicinity. Did I make a mistake?

  I go back to the library and check the numbers again. Maybe they go from right to left instead of left to right. Maybe one goes left to right and the other goes right to left.

  I rearrange the decimal point, the plus sign and the minus sign, but each time I plug the latitude and longitude into the Realm World, I end up in a dead end: a box canyon, a swamp, on a vast glacier, or in the hot sands of the desert.

  What am I missing? Could this be a combination for a lock instead of a latitude and longitude? Did I miss a decimal point or a blank space?

  Wonderman had said that the gingerbread cottage would contain another clue for me. If only I weren’t so stupid, I would have found it.

  I notice PinkPriestess is logged in, so I shoot her a message. Tell Wonderman that I can’t find the gingerbread house. I don’t have much time before I have to disappear. I need more clues or I’m doomed.

  She writes back. I’ll hang around the Temple and watch for him.

  I write her. Can you ask him to uncloak himself?

  She doesn’t answer, so I poke around, fight a horde of nomadic bees, collect their honey coins, and make my way to the Temple of Orion.

  I need a real life adult to help me get to my mother’s money. Since PinkPriestess isn’t helping, my only chance is still Wonderman.

  I open the breadbox to see if he left me any more clues. Scanning inside, I find a world map—only it’s not any of the Realm worlds.

  It’s a flattened projection of the earth. I trace the longitude in the negative direction—west, almost a hundred twenty one degrees.

  It lines up with the mountains where my parents have a vacation home. My heart beats in a gallop as I count the latitude lines, north of the equator by about forty degrees.

  It’s in the Sierra Nevada mountain range—a real place.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Are you comfortable? Can I get you another pillow? Is the fire too hot?”

  “Brian, everything’s perfect.” Cait ran her fingers through Sierra’s fluffy mane and propped her feet up on the ottoman. “Come, sit with me.”

  She and Brian were back in her parents’ cabin after picking up the two dogs from Linx. After successfully negotiating with her family to let her and Brian have some alone time up in the mountains, Cait was ready for a quiet and possibly romantic evening.

  Her family had prepared everything: stacked firewood, stocked the refrigerator, mopped and dusted, and fluffed the pillows and down comforters.

  They were on their way to get a Christmas tree when Cait pulled her sister Jenna aside and suggested that it would be more heroic if they could let Brian chop down the tree and drag it into the cabin while she gathered pine cones, boughs, and holly berries to prepare garlands and wreaths.

  After that pronouncement, her family did a one-eighty and disappeared.

  “Brian, come and sit with me,” Cait repeated as her husband stoked the fire with Melia at his side.

  His shoulders stiffened, but he kept poking at the fire.

  “Brian, did you hear me?” Cait gave Sierra a pat and pushed her toward Brian.

  The large dog waddled over and slumped herself in front of the fire.

  “I heard you,” Brian said, pushing himself from the fireplace. “I still have a number of assignments to do before I can sit with you.”

  “What assignments?” Cait patted the cushion next to her.

  “Set up a Christmas tree, cook dinner, light candles, feed and brush the dogs, clear the gutters, and …”

  “All that can wait.” Cait held her hands out, entreating him. “I want to talk.”

  “Was afraid of that,” he muttered under his breath.

  “Okay, then we don’t talk. But no more busywork. My family let me stay here because I told them it’ll help me heal from my concussion. You running around like a hyperactive robot will overload my nerves and well, you’re driving me crazy.”

  He turned toward her, running his fingers through his thick red hair. “I don’t know how to be alone with you.”

  “We’re not alone. We have Sierra and Melia.”

  At the sound of her name, Melia padded over to Cait and placed her bear-like head on Cait’s knees.

  “I’m nervous.” Brian rubbed his hands and clasped his fingers. “I feel different. I can’t explain it. Like there’s this big test I didn’t study for.”

  “This is not a test.” Cait let her fingers glide through Melia’s silky coat. “We’ve been married twelve years. It’s the first time we get to spend Christmas together.”

  “But, won’t you miss your family?” Brian stuttered. “What if we run out of things to talk about?”

  “We don’t have to talk. It’s still light outside, and we can go for a walk.” She reached up for Brian and he pulled her up from the couch. “I’m sure the dogs will love it.”

  They’d picked up the dogs shortly after Cait left the hospital, and they were due for a walk.

  “If we see a tree you like on the property, tag it, and I’ll cut it down for you,” Brian said. He opened the door and let Sierra and Melia out without their leashes. The Hart property sat on two acres of hilly terrain populated by pines, firs, and a stand of sequoias.

  Once outside, Brian seemed more relaxed as he offered an arm to Cait. They ambled down a path padded with pine needles toward a small creek. The air was crisp and clear. Slanted rays of the sun shimmered through the trees and made the tumbling water sparkle.

  Sierra stayed close to Cait and Brian, but little Melia dashed about and plunged into the creek.

  “Won’t she get cold?” Cait wondered. The creek wasn’t frozen, but the temperature was dropping, and snow was in the forecast. Perhaps they’d have a white Christmas. Anything was better than freezing rain.

  Brian put his arm around her. “She’s got a fur coat, and I’m sure she’s well adapted to cold weather.”

  “She’s having so much fun.”

  The chow dog splashed through the water and climbed up the opposite bank. She shook herself off and glanced back at them as if challenging t
hem to keep up. She barked once, and Sierra went off after her, but stopped before getting into the water.

  “Guess she doesn’t want to get wet,” Brian said. “There’s a footbridge a little further on we can use. Come on, Sierra.”

  The larger chow clambered back up the creek bank and followed them over a set of planks fording the water.

  As soon as they were on the other side, Sierra sniffed the air and went off after Melia.

  “Where are they going?” Cait asked. “Should we have put them on a leash? I’d hate for them to get lost again.”

  “They’ll be fine,” Brian said. “They found the cabin and they know we have food. Let’s see what’s so interesting. Maybe they scented a deer.”

  Whatever it was, the two dogs seemed excited. They raced across a clearing and clambered up a hill, then tore through a hedge of bushes.

  Excited barks and howls came from the two dogs as they circled a nicely shaped fir tree, and a series of chuffing and barking sounds swished through the top branches of the tree.

  “That would have been a perfect tree if it weren’t for the squirrel family living there,” Brian said, pointing to the tiny figures waving their bushy tails.

  “We can’t take their home,” Cait agreed. “Maybe instead of cutting down a tree, we can decorate it out here.”

  “I like the way you think,” Brian said. “I’ve always felt sad for Christmas trees. Cut off and slowly dying while people dress them up with pretty lights and glittering balls. Can you imagine if a family of trees hung ornaments and tinsel over a large human skeleton?”

  “Ewww, that would be gruesome.” Cait suppressed a shiver. She would never understand how Brian’s mind worked. He supposedly took everything literally, yet, here he was, switching the roles of humans and trees.

  “They could even put a crown of stars on the top of the skull.” Brian shielded his eyes and looked up at the top of the tree with its pointed spire.

  “You never said anything when we went Christmas tree shopping.” Cait took his hand and squeezed it.